With his usual quick and jerking manner, Mr. Wheatley took off his hat to Miss Davenport; saluted me, made a somewhat indefinite joke about Adam and Eve in the orchard, and then laughed and suddenly stopped, as usual.

"This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Wheatley," I said; "for though you hinted you might be coming up to this part of the country, I did not anticipate meeting you in this very house."

"Oh, Stringer is an old friend of mine," he answered. "We are both Northern men, with Southern principles, as they call us, in the blessed region of Yankeedom--eh, Stringer? We read 'M[ae]cenas atavis edite regibus' together, when we were good little boys, and very well behaved; and so, of course, I come to see him from time to time, 'sub tegmine fagi,' which may be translated, I presume, under the shadow of his own fig-tree. But, to speak truth, Sir Richard, the proximate cause of my coming here first, instead of going on further, and taking my good friend on my return, was no other than yourself. Thus stands the case. Your good landlady at Norfolk was assailed by sundry rumours--coming, Heaven knows how--that you wanted, and were in dire necessity for, two large black portmanteaus, which you left under her care; and hearing I was going west, as she termed it, she presented a humble petition and remonstrance to me to bring them on my buggy; to which, of course, I condescended, knowing that wherever you had strayed, or in whatever direction you had gone, I should be sure to hear everything about you at each house on the road. Thus I learned that you had first gone to Mr. Thornton's; then, that you and a young lady," and he took off his hat and bowed to Miss Davenport, "had attempted, unsuccessfully, to drown yourselves in the river, and that then you had come on to Mr. Stringer's."

"You did not get the story about the drowning quite right, sir," said Bessy Davenport. "It was I who tried to drown myself, and my cousin wouldn't let me."

"It came all to the same thing in the end, madam, I presume," replied Mr. Wheatley, laughing. "He had been nearly drowned in saving you, I was told; and as his was a voluntary act, as well as yours, the foundation of the story was pretty correct."

"Mine was anything but a voluntary act," said Bessy Davenport; "for I know when I found my pony rolling into the water with me, I would have consented to have my head shaved and be sent to the penitentiary, to be off his back and on the dry land."

"Or to be married and settled in the country," said Mr. Wheatley, "which is worse. However, 'all's well that ends well,' as the old comedy says; and here you are, madam, alive and comfortable; and Sir Richard--I should not have mentioned his style of dignity, God bless the mark! unless I had found he had discovered himself, or been discovered before I came--Sir Richard in fully as good a state of preservation as when I had the pleasure of knowing him in Norfolk. You are aware, I dare say, Sir Richard, that in consequence of our admirable republican institutions, which cause us to ignore all that we knew before of the horrible aristocratic institutions of Europe, a baronet or a lord in the United States is exactly like a Japan cabinet, a Chinese pagoda, or any other outlandish curiosity. No one knows how it ought to stand, how it ought to be placed, what are its ends, objects, or purposes. Some people, indeed, look upon this aristocracy as a sort of idolatry; regard you as the god, Fi-fo-fum, of some distant and pagan nation. The old man of the inn, who has got a fat stomach, and has lost two sons, asked me if I had seen the baronet, just as if you were a piece of porcelain or some other curiosity which people go to see. But the idol is the best image, after all; for the poor people, not being travellers, imagine decidedly that you worship nobility in your country. 'Tis a peculiar prejudice, somewhat characteristic of our people. They can conceive no respect for anything not religious, and very little for anything that is. We in the north begin with want of reverence for our parents, and end with want of reverence for our God. Here, in the south, they have a few traditions; and where there is tradition there is some reverence. But amongst us New-Englanders, the bump of reverence is altogether wanting. Where it should be, there is nothing but an hiatus; and yet there is plenty of fanaticism amongst us. By the way, Stringer, they tell me there is going to be a camp-meeting to-night, in your neighbourhood. Are you going?"

"No," answered Mr. Stringer; "I do not like camp-meetings. I think they offer very serious and unprofitable interruptions to the ordinary affairs of life."

"That's manly, and a manlike view," observed Mr. Wheatley; "the ladies, doubtless, differ. Do you go, madam?"

"No," answered Bessy Davenport; "I went once, and I will never go again. I did not know before to what a pitch human nature could be debased."

"Well, I shall go," answered Mr. Wheatley; "I always do. I like to see that same human nature in all its phases. I look upon it as one of the most curiously-constructed and multilateral pieces of machinery that ever was invented, and every side different from the other. Besides, sometimes one gets a good deal of good out of a camp-meeting. I have once or twice heard as good a sermon there as I ever heard in my life--sermons that have quite touched me about the liver and diaphragm. Oh! I shall go, certainly! won't you go, Sir Richard?" I told him that such was my intention; and it was concluded that we should go together that night, after dinner, he assuring me that I should, at all events, both see and hear things worthy of my attention, which I might never have the opportunity of seeing again. We were to have a whole host of eloquent preachers; one half the population, black and white, was to be assembled, and a large collection had been made already for lamps and torches, to give additional light to the solemn scene. I could perceive, several times during the day, that both Mrs. Stringer and Bessy Davenport were half inclined to be of the party; but they could not make up their minds: and certainly I was very glad that they refrained, after I had seen all that was going on in the outskirts of the ground. About half-past six o'clock, Mr. Wheatley and I set out, under the guidance of my good friend Zedekiah, who was vastly impatient at our long delay.

"All the exercises will be over," he said, "and you will come in in de middle of de unction, without having de pot boiling."

"Never mind, Zed, never mind," said Mr. Wheatley, as we walked on; "we have got fire enough in ourselves to boil half a dozen pots." Our way lay through the woods, with a cultivated field here and there intervening; and, at length, we began to see lights twinkling through the trees, giving notice that we were approaching the place of meeting. It was a tall grove, which had either been long cleared of underwood, or had grown up naturally without such encumbrance. First, we fell upon a number of tents and huts, belonging to those whom I suppose are technically called outsiders; and I cannot say that the scenes displayed by the various lanterns which were scattered about impressed me with any strong idea of either the sobriety or the morality of that excellent class, whatever might be their views of religion. Farther on, we came upon a scene not without its interest, at least in a picturesque scene. Under the tall trees was stretched out a sort of platform of rough-sawn deal boards, along the front of which, a great number of lights were arranged, and upon which stood, in a row, some eight or nine preachers. With an interval between this platform and the congregation, were numbers of benches and chairs, on which were ranged, without any other light than that afforded by the lanterns in front, some three or four hundred women; while through the trees around I could distinguish a great number of other groups, with here and there a lantern or a lamp. I need not dwell upon all that ensued; both because most people must have seen descriptions of these meetings, and because, in our sober and unexcitable country, the mixture of profanity, enthusiasm, and passion--ay, passion, that must be the word--that was displayed could only produce feelings of mingled disgust and abhorrence. I have no doubt that some people were there, full of feelings of deep and sincere religion; but the calm conclusion of my mind is, that such meetings tend to anything but the increase of piety. I believe it would be better to visit the temple of Juggernaut, than to visit one of these camp-meetings. One or two little incidents, however, I must mention not as characteristic of the scene, but as bearing upon some of the persons whom I have already mentioned in connection with my own story. On running my eye along over the preachers, one of the first whom I beheld was my ungainly acquaintance Mr. McGrubber; and, to say truth, I did not expect to be very much edified by the discourse of the worthy divine. It is true, his long black gown covered up a number of the anomalies in his strange, gaunt figure, though his curiously-shaped head and very repulsive features still stood forth in their native ugliness. A step before him, actually addressing the congregation, was a stout, tall man, of a very benevolent countenance, to whom I had been before introduced as a Doctor Shepherd. His voice was fine and powerful; and, as it was raised to its very highest pitch, I caught the greater part of what he said, though I continued standing behind all the benches. The oratorical part of his sermon was, indeed, not very extensive, for there was a sort of chorus--if I may so call what was spoken by himself--which, like those of the Greek tragedies, occupied the greater part of the drama. This consisted of such sentences as, "Come to Jesus, my beloved brethren--come to the foot of the cross--resist not the Holy Spirit. I hear the sighs and groans breaking from your hearts.--Come and drink of the living waters--come and taste of your sweet Saviour's love!" I heard, and I write these sentences, with pain; for there was a strange want of harmony between them and the scenes I had beheld going on around, which made me feel them to be almost blasphemous in the circumstances in which they were spoken. The rest of his oration, or sermon, consisted of a somewhat disjointed disquisition upon the rights of the black and white races, and the equality of all men, of whatever colour, in the sight of God, which I should have thought would be considered incendiary by the more violent upholders of slavery, many of whom were, assuredly, present. Nobody, however, expressed any disapprobation; but, on the contrary, several very pretty young women rushed forward to the foot of the platform, cast themselves on their knees before the preacher, and gave way to the emotions which he had excited in sighs and groans, and cries of "Oh Jesus! sweet Jesus!" The worthy preacher seemed to me to fondle them with even an excess of brotherly love; but, at length, he gave way to another minister, who was no other than my friend Mr. McGrubber.

"Let us go," said I to Mr. Wheatley. "I have had enough of this sort of thing."

"No, no; let us stay and hear this fellow," he answered. "This is one of their great guns, rammed up to the muzzle with grape and canister--to my mind, one of the most dangerous fellows in the Union." There was no roar of artillery, when Mr. McGrubber began. He commenced in a tone hardly raised above a whisper; and it is wonderful how dead was the silence which followed. Every one strained to hear his lightest word; and I must say that all my previous expectations were disappointed. The dull pedagogue of the house, and the boor of the dinner-table, was eloquent, really eloquent, on the platform; and I never heard a more shrewd and well-arranged argument against slavery than he contrived to interweave with his exhortations to faith, repentance, and reformation. It was all done apparently quite naturally; and the very quietness of his low but piercing tones seemed to enchain all attention. I can remember several fragments of his discourse.

"I call upon you, my brethren--I call upon you, the black as well as the white, the Jew likewise and the Gentile, to come to the foot of the cross and receive salvation. Why standest thou back, thou man of the dark skin? Why shrinkest thou from the presence of thy Redeemer? Is it because of the bonds upon thy hands? Is it because of the degradation which man, thy fellowman, has inflicted upon thee? Knowest thou not that he is the Saviour, the Liberator, the God to whom judgment belongs--who will avenge--who will wipe the tears from the eyes of the oppressed, and pile coals of burning fire upon the head of the oppressor? Come to Jesus, thy Lord and thy Saviour. Thinkest thou that He regards the colour of thy skin? Has He not said,--

"'Though thy sins be as scarlet, I will make them as white as snow?'

"And shall he who can so wash the spirit, have regard to the hue of the flesh?" Again, after awhile, he said, "But perhaps they have persuaded thee, as they have tried to persuade me, that thou art no man--that thou hast no soul to be saved--that thou art as the beasts that perish. But yet we find by their own law, that in the third, or the fourth, or the fifth degree of white blood, thou becomest as the white man. Will they tell me at what particular hue or shade of colour the soul--the responsible, the immortal soul--enters into the breast that was before void and tenantless? Nay, nay! Feel, understand, that thou too, whatever be thy colour, art an heir of eternal life, a child of God, an object of the Saviour's love; that they may shackle thy hands and bruise thy feet in the stocks, and the iron may enter into thy soul; still, the God of Israel is thy God, of whom it is written, 'Vengeance is mine. I will repay, saith the Lord.'" He subsequently took even a bolder strain; and, thrusting all religious topics aside, talked openly of slavery in its moral and political aspect. He did not at all conceal his opinions, nor temper his terms; but denounced the peculiar institution of the South, as alike degrading to master and man, as evil in itself and all its consequences. One of the most powerful parts of his discourse, as it struck me, was that in which he justified not only slaves themselves in attempting to escape from bondage, but all those who aided them in their efforts for that purpose. Breaking off in the midst of an argument, he suddenly began a sort of tale or apologue; he told how a white man, an American, a freeman, had been wrecked on the coast of Morocco; how he had been seized and exposed in the slave market; sold to the highest bidder; carried up into the country; sold again and again; till, at length, he found himself working in a garden in the neighbourhood of Tangiers. Then he painted in glowing terms the misery of the poor man's situation; how he had thirsted and panted and pined for liberty; how he had cast his eyes over the blue sea, and longed for his native land, and his friends, and his family; how the very luxuries of the climate and the kindness of his master were disgusting and abhorrent to him in his state of slavery. He then told us that a friendly Moor, in whom he had created an interest, determined to assist him in escaping. The two Europeans who were in the port had entered into the scheme, and that a thousand difficulties and dangers, on which I need not dwell, were encountered and overcome, till, at length, the fugitive was placed safely on board an American ship. "Were these men wrong?" he exclaimed. "Were these men criminal? Had he not a right to seek his liberty however he could find it? Did not the whole of these States ring with applause and admiration of those who enabled him to recover freedom, the best boon of life? Oh, perverted moral sense, which can in one instance laud to the skies the same conduct which in another, precisely similar, it dooms to the prison or the gallows?" While all this was going on, I felt some sort of apprehension as to the result, and I looked round from time to time to see what would be the impression upon the audience. The greater part of the listeners were white men, many of them slave owners, generally men of strong passions, but little subjected to control; and it would not at all have surprised me to see the preacher dragged from the platform and horsewhipped before the congregation. But I was mistaken; not a sound even of disapprobation met my ear. Some sighed, and some shook the head, but nobody attempted to interrupt the preacher. As soon as Mr. McGrubber had done, I turned away with Mr. Wheatley, and we bent our steps towards Beavors, keeping silence till we had got beyond the limits of the meeting.

"Well," said my companion at length, "what do you think of it all, Sir Richard? Moral, religious, and social, isn't it? Ha, ha, ha! We Americans are strange people, and take the oddest of all possible ways to arrive at our ends. We gather together a whole heap of men, women, and children, at night, in the midst of a forest--make two-thirds of them as drunk as possible--stimulate the passions of the others by every kind of exciting and enthusiastic discourse, and hug and fondle the young women, all for the purpose of promoting religion and morality."

"That part of the subject, I have long made up my mind upon," I replied, "from the description of others, and from what I have seen in fanatical meetings, where excitement was not carried to anything like the same pitch. But that which astonished me the most, was to hear so many men, in the very heart of a slave-holding state, preach doctrines perfectly adverse to its most cherished institutions, and to see such doctrines listened to, not only with patience, but with assent. I expected every moment to behold worthy Mr. McGrubber heartily pommelled for his pains."

"Oh, you are quite mistaken as to our state of feeling," said Mr. Wheatley, with one of his short laughs. "Virginia is well-nigh an abolition state. There is hardly a man here who would not emancipate all his slaves, if he could do so without utter ruin to himself and great danger to the State. Perhaps you are not aware that in the last session of our legislature, a bill for general emancipation was introduced, and lost, I think, only by one vote. Next session 'twill be carried, to a certainty, if my Northern friends will let it."

"I should think," I replied, "if the negroes hear many more such sermons as that of the Rev. Mr. McGrubber, they will take the matter into their own hands, and free themselves, with a vengeance."

"There is the danger," answered Mr. Wheatley, more gravely than was customary with him. "Not that an insurrection of the slaves could ever be successful in this country. You will never see a St. Domingo tragedy enacted here with any success. The whites are too strong and too much upon their guard. But what I apprehend is, that my fanatical friends of the North, not content with letting public opinion, which all tends towards emancipation, work its way quietly, will go a step too far, and either instigate the negroes to some sudden outbreak, which will be put down with some bloodshed, or else create a re-action in public sentiment, by their irritating diatribes. Men may be led who will not be driven; and, let me tell you, you can't drive a Virginian. You have seen to-night how much these people will bear quietly, when it takes the form of argument; but there can be no doubt, that such men as this McGrubber are even now circulating incendiary pamphlets amongst the slaves, which are read to little knots of them by any one who can read. In other instances, the same principles are spread by pictures and horrid bad prints--a sort of hieroglyphic abolitionism; and if this is carried too far, the tendency to emancipation will be extinguished at once, and every man will arm himself to resist to the death."

"It is a pity," I remarked, "that in all questions where there are two parties, each carries his argument beyond its legitimate limit. Passion enters in and exaggerates all things. Passion on the one side begets passion on the other; till, upon points where men were very nearly agreed, they break each other's heads, because they cannot fix the exact boundary of debate. How ridiculous that, when you admit Virginia has been within one vote of carrying emancipation, she should, as you say, be ready to retrace every step in that direction, simply because the North urges her a little too vehemently to follow it."

"Stop a minute," he answered; "that is not exactly a fair statement of the question. Each State has its reserved rights. It gives up to the federal government the decision of certain questions affecting the interests of the whole Union. Its domestic laws and institutions it reserves entirely for its own decision. The North--I am a Northern man you must remember--seeks to violate this compact, upon which the whole Union depends, and wages war--for it is a moral warfare--against the South, upon the institution of slavery. That institution is, in fact, the battleground. The South occupies it, and says,--'It is mine. You shall not drive me from it. It is true, I care very little for this debatable ground, and may hereafter, in my own good time, give it up as a thing not worth contending about; but I will not give it up to force; and on this ground I will fight you; for if you carry this aggression by my imbecility or indolence, no one can tell where you will attack me next. In regard to your abstract doctrines, you may be right or you may be wrong; but with regard to your interference with my domestic affairs, you are decidedly wrong; and that I will not tolerate.' In short, my good friend, whatever the North has done, and whatever the North may do, in this sense, only tends to rivet the chains on the hands of the negro more firmly than before. It may seem very absurd, but such is human nature; and although I admit that in many of the arguments used by the abolitionists, and even by this man, McGrubber, to-night, there is a great deal of force, yet their strength is changed to weakness when men become convinced, as every Southern man is, that they are used for political, factious, and partisan purposes. You cannot have a domestic police in such a union as this; and every man will whip his own children in his own house, when he thinks they deserve it."

"Although I judged it rash and most dangerous," I answered, "to preach such doctrines as we have heard to-night to a large crowd of negroes, yet I could not help thinking that many of Mr. Mc Grubber's arguments were exceedingly specious, if not cogent: that little apologue of his, for instance, of the white slave in Barbary and his liberation. It struck me as a very happy illustration of his views."'

"A cunning piece of rhetoric," answered my acute friend, "peculiarly illustrative of the rhetoric of fanatics. Do you not remark that whenever they have a point to carry, they employ a figure, and in that figure they pre-suppose a complete parity between two really dissimilar cases. Knock away the petition principia, and what do you find? Here he places a white man, always accustomed to freedom, and with all the intellectual qualities impliedly cultivated by a white man's education, with a white man's wants, wishes, habits, and feelings, exactly upon a par with a negro born upon a plantation, habituated from infancy to slavery, without a thought, a desire, or a notion beyond the state in which he was brought up, except such as may have been instilled into him by abolitionists. Is this fair to begin with? Is there a parity between the two cases? Then again, the white man in flying from the bonds which had been accidentally imposed upon him, returns to home, to his ancient habits, to the free use of faculties and endowments which are sure, if rightly employed, to lead to competence, if not to wealth, to independence, and to ease. The negro flying from his master, on the contrary, leaves family and friends, old habits and associations, food, care, and protection in sickness or old age, for a wide, unfriended, uncertain, future, where there is nothing probable but long-protracted labour, unbefriended sickness, unpitied decrepitude, and death on a dunghill. His nominal independence is shackled by the continual necessity of seeking food by labour; and his freedom becomes a curse instead of a blessing, in consequence of the prejudices of colour and caste. Is there any parity between these two cases? I declare I would a great deal rather be a slave to the hardest master I have ever seen in Virginia--and I have now been here many years--than I would be a free negro in an abolition state. But this was all rhetoric, mere rhetoric, the most cowardly and contemptible of all species of sophistry. Much better to say boldly, 'You have no right to reduce any man to slavery--you shall not do evil that good may come of it--the Declaration of Independence says, that all men are created equal; they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights; among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. By holding any man in slavery, whatever be his colour, you violate this first great principle of the American constitution, you break the solemn pact upon which this union was founded, by which alone she claimed, maintained, and accomplished her independence of Great Britain.' Better to say this, and fight it out upon this ground, than go sneakingly to work to get petty advantages in Congress, or criminally strive to render the slaves discontented with their masters. I have come to the conclusion, my dear Sir Richard, that the abolitionists are the very worst enemies of the slaves themselves, who, after all, are but mere----" Here his ovation, which was much more grave and earnest than anything I had ever heard fall from his lips before, was brought to a close by a loud outcry, proceeding from a spot immediately in front of us. Cries for help, loud exclamations, and blows, seemed to be going on.

"Don't you do dat, Jack. Oh, you mean to murder me. Help! help! murder! I tell you notin' but de truth. Jim, I did not tink dat of you. Help! help! murder! What you knock my head so for?" I thought I recognized the voice of my good friend, Zed; and ran forward as fast as possible; but before, in the turnings of the wood, I could reach the scene, I heard another voice, which also seemed familiar, exclaiming in a loud, imperative tone--

"Let him alone! Fools, would you make an outbreak before the time? If you strike him again, I will dash your brains out. The man only says what he thinks true." As the last words were uttered, I came out upon that little track of open ground which I have before spoken of as close to the Hunter Wood. A small edge of the moon was peeping up above the trees; and some half dozen yards before me was a negro on the ground--no other than my friend Zed--with a second just raising a thick stick over his head. Close by was a tall, powerful man, whom I afterwards found to be Nat Turner, in the act of throwing furiously back, from the scene of conflict, a fourth gentleman of the same hue, who had apparently been bent upon the demolition of poor Zed. I sprang forward at once upon the man who was belabouring my good servant, took the descending blow upon my left arm--which I do believe it very nearly broke--and knocked him down at once. Zed sprang upon his feet and seized the fellow by the throat as he lay, while Mr. Wheatley stood by, laughing and exclaiming--

"Bravo, Sir Richard! a very pretty exhibition of the manly art, as you call it in England. You will know the hardness of a negro's head for the future; for you will find your knuckles all out, if I am not greatly mistaken."

"Let the man get up, Zed," I said, not very well pleased will my companion's untimely merriment, for I was smarting from the blow on the arm; and, to say the truth, my knuckles were cut as if I had struck a stone wall; "let the man get up, and if he wants to be knocked down again, he shall have it." No sooner was his throat free, however, than Zed's assailant sprang upon his feet, and took to his heels as fast as he could go. The other two followed at the same speedy pace, although Zed cried aloud,--

"You need not run, Mr. Turner; you are a good man, and come to help me first." However, none of them stayed; for it is rather a dangerous thing in these states for a negro to be any way mixed up with an affray in which a white man is struck. As we walked homeward towards Beavors, the cause of the conflict was explained to me and my white companion. It seems that Zed, just at the close of Mr. McGrubber's harangue, had taken his way back towards the house, accompanied by two men whom he called Jack and Jim. As they went, they commented, amusingly enough, I doubt not, upon all they had heard, passing Nat Turner, who followed them a step or two behind, but who seemed, Zed said, in a gloomy mood, and would neither speak to them nor join their party. Zed, it would appear, took up ground in direct opposition to his two swarthy companions. He had had some experience, when his leg was broken, of the condition of a sick and free negro, and he declared that freedom was the most miserable state in the world, and that Mr. McGrubber and all the Abolitionists were great fools or great rascals for wishing to force it upon the slaves. The dispute got hot and angry; they mutually began to call each other bad names; the slaves in general feel no good-will and a certain degree of contempt towards free negroes. From words they came to blows, and Zed was in the high-road to have his brains knocked out, when Nat Turner came up to occupy one of his assailants, while I delivered him from the other. There was no great significance in Master Zed's story, excepting so far as it showed that amongst some of the slaves, at least, there was a fierce and eager desire for freedom; but a few words had been spoken by Nat Turner just as I was approaching, which made me ponder and doubt. He had said--

"Fools! would you make an outbreak before the time?" I could come but to one conclusion, namely, that an outbreak of some kind was contemplated, and that a time was fixed for it. I knew not how soon it was to take place. I determined, however, to watch what was going on around, and, without putting my poor acquaintance, Nat Turner, in peril, to give Mr. Thornton a hint that I had reason to believe the existing calm was treacherous, and likely to be followed by a storm. In the meantime, Mr. Wheatley walked on by my side, laughing and talking in his light but pungent way; commenting, notwithstanding Zed's presence, upon the peculiarities of the negro race, and declaring that they were nothing but great babies, always ready to scratch, and fight, and whine upon the very slightest occasion. We found the whole party, with the exception of Mr. McGrubber, assembled in the drawing-room at Beavors. Bessy's lustrous eyes turned upon me eagerly, as she inquired,--

"Well, what do you think of it, Cousin Richard?"

"I think it a very disgusting exhibition," I replied; "and, though it may seem a very ungallant speech, all the time I was there, I was thanking Heaven that you were not there too."

"Just as well, just as well," said Mr. Stringer. "And now let us have a little claret sangaree, and go to bed, for it is waxing late."